Just to Make Sure

In a nerve racking way
she makes comment
after comment
that shows her as being
disengaged
in a running commentary
of every wrong thing.

We approach an on ramp
of 200 cars
and she says the traffic's real bad
so be careful.

I was thinking
of flooring it
and seeing if
cosmic bumper cars
were in the stars,
but luckily
she brought me
to my senses.

She tells me that
she was going to be bad
and eat a sandwich
but instead she ate
a salad without the cheese
and only half the dressing
and she tells me this
as I am eating a Subway footlong
of veggies on wheat.

It's one comment
after another
of what is wrong
and what needs improvement
and what is broken
and what needs attending to.

She is the bearer
of bad news,
really bad news,
death and cancer
and divorce
and plagues
and viruses
and all the things
that cause
the stomach to turn
and the dick to shrink.

And then she turns
to me and says,
"I love you;
do you love me too?"

Just after being given
the list
of the horrible,
the horrendous,
the decrepit,
the insidious,
the cancerous,
the busted,
the abandoned,
the trashy,
the morbid,
the illicit,
the overweight,
the abused,
the split ended,
the blemished,
the unacceptable,
the unappealing,
the objectionable,
the rejected,
the unsustainable,
the under educated,
the rude,
the stinky,
the itchy,
the bumpy,
the floppy,
the flappy,
the unfluffy,
the uncomfy,
the dirty,  
the web strewn,
the dented,
the scraped,
the scrapable,
the rusted,
the rotten,
the vomitorious,
the unclear,
the crowded,
the late,
the early,
the exhausting,
the tension,
the lecturing,
the demanding,
the lazy,
the fat,
the unhappy,
the notorious,
the thoughtless,
the unimaginable,
the liquid,
the encrusted,
the discredited,
the undecided,
the replayed,
the reloaded,
the uploaded,
the displayed,
and the infinite variety
of ways you can tell someone
that something is wrong
whenever I am around you,
but do you still love me
and how
and to what degree
and is it
the kind of love
that no matter what I say
and how much
I crowd out chances to allow you
to be comfortable
for even 3 seconds
that you still want me madly
while I sit here not talking
except to let you know
that something
so terribly wrong
is about to happen
and that stench
and the spiders
and the world
is just a difficult place
for a princess to be.  
Do you love me?  

She says
she thinks
I am a fucking genius,
and yet these are the things
that have escaped my view
and just to make sure
that I am fully caught up,
she brings it all
to my attention,
the worst
in review.  

God forbid
I should not
stay abreast
of the horrors
of the universe
and the ever-burgeoning
avalanche
of death
and destruction
that looms
on the horizon.  

If there is anything
I could use
and that I am completely blind to,
it is bad news
and everything
that is messed up.

It's like that.

runningturtle87